


Blood Runs Cold

by citadelofswords



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citadelofswords/pseuds/citadelofswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both knew they would go down young, they both knew they'd go down in a fight. But neither of them were expecting this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Runs Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is old. Very old. I apologize for any tone changes, as I edited it from the original to make it a lot better, but most of the original writing was left intact.
> 
> Dear God, it's been a long time since I wrote for these boys.

It was Murphy who went down first.

It always was going to be Murphy who went down first- he was the more reckless of the twins, the more hot-headed. They both knew they would go down young, they both knew they'd go down in a fight. But neither of them were expecting this.

Their father wasn't there. If he had been, things might have been different.

It was supposed to have been an easy job. There wasn't supposed to be a problem with these loons. But they'd walked straight into an ambush- nothing they hadn't handled before. In fact, Connor had no idea his brother had gone down, not even when he heard the double thud behind him. He just kept shooting, kept gunning them down because that's what he did. If the men in movies didn't turn around at the disturbances, then he wouldn't either.

It was only when he heard the strangled yell behind him- "CONNOR." He whipped around, expecting to see Murphy standing tall behind him and seeing nothing. His eyes fell to the floor, knees following a moment later.

"Ye bloody bastard," he snarled, leaning over his twin. "Get up, ye piece of lazy ass. Wha're you doin' on the floor for?"

Murphy grimaced and pulled his jacket aside. Connor's heart fell faster than a stone, because there was just too much blood.

"No, no, no, ye fucker, ye're not 'urt. 's jus' a scratch. Get up, Murph. Get the fuck up!" Connor's voice rose to a panicked yell as he gripped his brother by the shoulder. This was one movie cliche he never wanted to come to fruition.

"Shut up." Murphy grumbled, trying to speak around the blood in his mouth.

"Yer not goin' ta die on me now, are ye?" Connor asked. "We aren't done yet, we ha'n't killed them all, now  _come on_!" He felt the tears spill from his eyes and squeezed them shut, trying to hold them back, trying to stay strong. "Yer s'pposed to have my bloody fuckin' back, Murph, you can't just leave me!"

"Ye're s'pposed to have mine." Murphy shot back immediately. Connor froze and Murphy reached with one shaky hand for his rosary. The other hand found both of Connor's and squeezed gently. "S'okay, Connor, s'okay. We 'ere on a mission from God; I'll be fine." His voice got weaker and he brought the rosary to his lips, slowly and deliberately.

"I won't be," Connor managed to choke out. Murphy didn't say anything else, just sighed and gave his twin's hand a reassuring squeeze. Then, his normally iron grip went slack.

"No. No no no no no. Murphy.  _Murphy!"_  Connor let out a little sob and clutched his brother to him. "Ye bastard. Wake up. Wake th' fuck up!"

It was then he knew. He knew which one of them was the older brother because he felt the overwhelming desire to slay the men who had killed his brother.  He knew he was the older twin, but there was no one to gloat to. And what, he thought, a cruel smile twisting on his face, was the _point_ , if he couldn't gloat?

He stared at Murphy's face, eyes closed, hint of a smile playing at his brother's unmoving lips. It was strange- he almost looked at peace. Neither MacManus brother had ever felt at peace.

Connor stood. He knew what to do.

He moved through the place. There were no women and children, they had all fled the scene. But there were still men; terrible, terrible men who deserved to die at the hand of a servant of God. Connor hunted through every catacomb, every shadow, poked the muzzle of his gun through every mouse hole he found. He showed no mercy. He left no man alive.

He slew them all.

When he returned to the room where his twin's body lay, he knelt, staring down at Murphy. Gently, he pressed his lips to his brother's forehead. There were still two pennies in his pocket, and he dropped them onto Murphy's eyes. No pennies for Connor MacManus, he thought grimly, slowly standing up. One last sacrifice for his beloved twin.

"And shepherds we shall be," he began, speaking the prayer slowly, "for thee my Lord for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command. We shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be."

He had three bullets left. Aiming at a spot directly over Murphy's left shoulder, he murmured, "In nomine Patris." He fired, moving the gun to a point over Murphy's right shoulder, "et Filii." He fired again. Falling to his knees, he pressed the gun under his chin.

Oddly enough, he felt at peace.

"Et Spiritus Sancti."

Connor pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> There was a prequel (of sorts) to this; sadly my mother deleted the file because it had "mild sexual content" and "incest". Weird. I hope you didn't cry too much, in any case.


End file.
